There and Back Again: A Regent's Tale

[rassafraggin]

The sedated hostages/crazies have been separated and sequestered in spare cabins where they can do little damage to the sub or themselves, the adult Rebmans tied hand and foot. Upon appearing within the lobby in a splash of carried-over water, Merrisol had first tried to raise Maggie, Martin, and Quinlan with his trumps. Martin hadn't responded, but finding that the other two had escaped to Amber's gates, he promptly invited them back. A few more tries at their Fearless Leader while people are taken care of, weapons restored, evil contained... but the guy just doesn't feel like talking or something.

Quinlan is therefore back, and...well, it probably isn't too surprising that he's found a table to set notebooks on and seems to be working on a problem. A new problem, by the look of the notes.

Merrisol ducks a little as he comes through the hatch from the lobby, a large towel over his shoulders. He'd gone out briefly again, perhaps with Liya and their aquatic companion critters, to make sure the Solar Flare wasn't being surrounded by an irate army. The city is in a disorganized uproar, from what can be observed from far-off cover, but no troops appear to be on the march just yet. "We can hold position for a dozen more hours at most, but then we'll have to withdraw and head back for the surface to gather more solar power," says Merri as he settles by the table, glancing at the notes inquiringly.

Quinlan nods, looking up. "Um. I have some ideas here," he says. "But I'm not sure if I've got the whole picture. Did anybody figure out why the kids have been taken?"

Merrisol shakes his head. "Not really, aside from the obvious hostage holding scenario, although that is definitely not the whole deal. We know from that visit to the Witch's tomb that children hold some special significance for her. Could she gain some special benefit from claiming their souls for her use? She has an entire army of child spirits at her command, according to the one abductee she sent back to take a stab at Martin."

Quinlan nods slowly, thinking something over. "Want to hear a crazy theory?" he asks. "I mean, it fits the evidence I have, but it's kind of crazy anyway."

Merri swings another chair out from the console beneath the dining/meeting table and sits in it. "Go ahead."

"I think we're dealing with a lich," says Quinlan slowly. "And crazier than the usual breed. This one doesn't just want to continue her undeath. She wants to *live*."

Merrisol stares a bit. "...A leech?" Obviously not a leech, you silly marine biologist. He gets that Quinlan means some other kind of undead critter, nodding. "She is supposedly crazy.. bananas, really. She claimed to be Queen Moire's sister, which is why she wants to be acknowledged as Queen of Rebma, I suppose.. while Moire is indisposed. The circumstances around her coma of which you are already aware. More Black Road, Black Water funny business."

"Well. I suppose that explains the water," Quinlan muses. "The magic in the water looks like the water in Rebma city - I don't *think* we need the kisses to swim out there. But to answer you - *lich*." He pronounces it carefully. "It's a powerful form of undead mage. They retain all the magical skills they had in life, all the intelligence. Generally, because a lot of them were necromancers to start with, they'll wind up commanding lesser forms of undead. Interesting fact: Liches become liches by putting their life essence somewhere outside their body. It's a thing called a phylactery. It allows them to restore their physical form if it's destroyed." He taps one of his notebooks. "Encountered some in Alhambra, very nasty. Anyway. Ordinarily, you'd expect an undead to take captives to steal their life essence so that they can continue their undeath. *This* one, I don't think she's satisfied with that. That's why she's taking kids, and why the Chaos. Because as far as I can tell - you'd want to ask a Feldane to be sure - but as far as I can tell? Death is a hard rule. You can come back as undead, but not actually come back to *life*. Chaos, though, its entire purpose is to bend or break the rules of existence. So she's using chaos in hope that it lets her cross that line from death to life, and she's using kids because kids have the most life essence to give." He smiles a bit sheepishly. "Make sense?"

Uhhhh. Merrisol might want to just shut down his brain and say: Nnnnooope. He is quiet for a little while, possibly thinking it over. "Do you mean... undeath, like life, isn't a permanent state itself, and has a sort of un-life span, which can be boosted just the same by absorbing other lives? And this lady is cooling her heels and feeding.. tainted child essences.. into her phylactery. Some kind of chemistry trial." He shakes his head. "If that were true, though. There would be no children.. living or undead. They would have been in her vat.. not walking around and training to fight. As for whether one really can return from the realm of Death to a fully living state? It must be possible. I've seen it happen before myself."

Quinlan tilts his head. "Really? From all the way dead to fully alive? I'd like to hear that story."

Merri nods, but frowns over at the wall for a moment. "Well.. I think this was a case of divine intervention, in that the person in question is an instrument of a deity, or a group of them. You know Sol? She has sanctified more than one person or place to protect it from the presence of Chaos, or maybe just evil in general, Rebma's Palace grounds that I definitely know of, although it required a sacrifice of her own life," he explains quietly, still watching some point of interest on the near wall. "Her body was then burnt down to ashes, and then... well I watched as she re-grew herself within the fire pit, bones and all. She was weak but she was Sol. She knew everything up until the point that I.. killed her," he says, looking back now, a bit wary of Quinlan's reaction to that. But he goes on: "Supposedly.. she intends to try it again, on the afflicted Rebmans this time. Unless they are too far gone, that is."

Quinlan nods. "Gods don't live or die by the same rules as the rest of us," he says calmly. "So..what works for her, may well not work for this lich. As to why the children aren't killed...I don't know. But if the lich wants to live, as opposed to continuing her unlife, there's probably a lot of research yet to be done. Death is ...something serious, I think. I've seen Feldanes try to keep someone from dying, and I've seen them nearly die themselves just to push an undead back into...wherever the other side is. And that's Feldanes, you know, they're supposed to be the best in the universe at it. When I can, I'd like to examine the children with Liyandra and a Feldane in tow. Between those two approaches and my own, if there's some kind of mystical link established between the children and the lich, we should be able to find it."

Liya has been checking on the little fishies and mollusc that are in the tanks, making sure they are okay. She comes over to see what's going on, rubbing at the spot where the nasty mark was henna'ed on. She pads quietly over, tilting her head a bit, and asks, "Anything new?"

Merrisol wonders, "Oh.. Liyandra? Does she..." he trails off. Well, nevermind. Just the first he's heard of her having powers applicable to the situation, it seems. "I've seen a few Feldanes at work as well. Until we get hold of Martin again, we're pretty much holding pattern anyway.. if you can get hold of Lady Izett and Liyandra," ..oh speak of the dickens, he waves her over, then continues to Quinlan, "you have your pick of examination rooms." He gestures around at the cabin access hatches ringing the ovular room they are currently in. The seven sleeping tainted are divided amongst four of the eight available rooms.

Quinlan smiles, waving Liyandra over. "Just a theory about the kids," he says. "Have you had a chance to study them at all?"

Liya grins as she pads over to join her two friends. "H'lo. Did I hear my name? What can I do to help?" she asks, sounding a bit puzzled. She smiles at Kerf, blue eyes slanting his way, and mischievously, she adds, "You kiss well." And then her attention is back on Quinlan, as he says he has a theory.

"Not that kind of a kiss," Merrisol mumbles, giving Liyandra a look from under his brows. Teasing at a time like this.. honestly.. girls are weird.. mumble. "...But thanks." He suddenly has to go see to stuff, and offers Liya his chair at the table before he goes.

Quinlan looks somewhat bemused at Merrisol's behavior, but doesn't comment on it. Perhaps that's mercy. "...I've got this idea that maybe we're dealing with a lich that wants to *live*," he says. "And is trying to use chaos to break the rules about that. If that's the case, there may be some kind of mystical link between the lich - your witch-queen - and the kids she's taken."

Liya just grins at Merri. Yup, hey, he'd tease her if the situation were reversed. And as he decides to run off, she laughs softly. "Hey, you don't have to run. I'll stop, I promise." She then is diverted by Quinlan, brow furrowing. "I guess that could be. I just - am not sure how I can help with that. I don't sense magic at all."

"You sense life, though," says Quinlan softly. "And if I'm right - which I admit, I could well not be - that's what the lich really wants. To live. Not maintain an undeath, but *live*. And children have the most life to offer."

Liya nods her head slowly to Quinlan. "Yes, that I can do," she agrees. "Though don't ask me if nature is out of balance around here - I don't know quite what it would be like if it was." She takes a breath and then says, "Okay, so we can look to see if there's signs of life or - if there's brighter or dimmer life, sure. Though - wouldn't a lich lose power if they became alive again? I thought they were more powerful because they were undead."

"Actually, more like they're powerful because they were mages," says Quinlan slowly. "With a big focus on power and continued existence. Usually but not always necromancers to start with. And with time they just...well, expand their researches. They learn more, can cast bigger and more world-altering magics...it just sort of builds over time."

Liya considers that, and then she nods her head. "That makes sense," she says, frowning a bit, as she thinks through everything that she's so far learned. "I - hope Martin is okay." That comes out involuntarily, because the crazy man went charging in headlong, so she's heard. And well - now he's ... somewhere else, where he's not supposed to be. She sighs, wrinkling her nose, and slouches into the chair Merri vacated.

"We'll go after him if we have to," says Quinlan. "He was the one who insisted on staying behind. Either he has a plan, or...he'll get his nose bloodied and maybe be more cautious next time. Though I admit the latter is more a hope than a likelihood."

Liya laughs outright at that, letting her amusement show. "I think that would be a good thing, but you are more likely correct that it is a hope." She leans back, sleeves riding up her wrists a bit, and the little salamander tattoo on her left arm becomes visible. "I will help however I can, of course."

Quinlan smiles a bit. "That's all anybody can do, right? I'm really kind of hoping I can be more use than a portable stage effects department, anyway."

Liya and Quin are seated at a table, chatting. Liya's dressed in more sailory garb again, though her little salamander tattoo can now be seen. There might be books and maps and such on the table, but if so, they're all Quinlan's. She nods her head, and then says, "But that was important - you kept everyone watching you so we could get to where we were going. And Mimic did a great job!"

Merrisol wanders back through, dry and pressed. "Could anyone use a drink? There's a sort of stocked bar here. I don't know.. it's all Begman brewed," which means bottles of pure genius, "and one questionable jar of dark yellow stuff," he reports from the kiosk-kitchen unit, surrounded by breakfast/drinks bar counter and stools.

Quinlan mmms. "Water's fine," he says. "I'm kind of...not really up for experimenting with my stomach today. It's all the dead things around, I think."

Liya makes a face, and then she sighs. "I kind of have to agree with Quinlan. I think a long visit home may be in order once this is all over."

Merrisol nods, poking back up to access the drinking water stock through a nozzled faucet. "It should be, soon. I don't know why Martin hasn't used that army passcode he was going on about." He brings a tall spouted container over and a couple of tumblers, but opens a beer for himself. "You want to talk about feeling useful," he continues, having come in on the tail-end of the previous discussion. "Seems to me you're always being hauled in to sniff this or scry that, Quinlan. And I get to wondering if there's anything we can do, that would be useful to you." He pauses to grimace, and admits, "By we, I mean me."

Quinlan blinks. "Maggie said the same thing to me, the other day. Did she tell you about my request? Or did that get lost in all the current business?"

Liya tilts her head, and looks over at Quinlan as well, curious about this whole thing. "Or me," she adds, as she watches the man. "If you need help, you will tell me, right? At least if it's something I can help with?"

Merrisol blank-faces. "Ah.. Did she?" One may now presume that they either share a telepathic bond, or have discussed this very subject between themselves before. Has Quinlan felt his ears turning red recently? He glances at Liyandra with a quick smile, then replies more directly to Quinlan, "Probably lost.. all I know is what you said about no elder Royals suggesting the kids be spared and fostered in Banyan, and the implications therein."

Quinlan wrinkles his nose briefly. "Potential implications. It's generally not a great idea to assume one knows what one of the Elders is *actually* thinking or planning." He waves a hand. "Anyway. I'm still working on the Golden Hunter problem, and it's only a matter of time before the god reaches the Golden Circle again. We've found a lot of things that *don't* work. It's now at a stage where we're testing theories out for effectiveness. And yes, if you'd like to help with that, we could definitely use that help."

Liya nods her head, thinking about that. "Alright, in that case, just let me know," she says, with a smile. "Or at least, if you can. I expect I can be hard to reach since I don't think there are very many trumps of me in existence."

The group talk is currently going on in the lounge/dining area of the sub. It's been a couple of hours since departing Emor via trump. The re-captured captives are sequestered in various cabins. Merrisol was able to locate Quinlan and Maggie, bringing them back aboard, but Martin hasn't been answering any trump call attempts. A short scouting mission turned up no troop movements from the city proper as yet, although they are likely not happy about that Coliseum bruhaha. Quinlan has been poring over notebooks and talking up his theories about the Dragon Queen's nefarious purposes with Liyandra and Merrisol. Now they seem to have moved on to unrelated topics, and might soon break out the Yahtzee, if Martin still doesn't get back to the sub. The lousy bum. They will probably be going back in to rescue, rinse, and repeat.

Merrisol walks over to pull out the chair on Quinlan's other side, since Liya is in his old seat now. "Nor me," he says, but uncertainly. Spend enough time in the company of trump artists, and suddenly your card might be in every pack of bubble gum from here to Tir. "But certainly.. when the current crisis is passed, I'll be over to get some more specifics on your results. I have some ideas to pitch off-hand, but wouldn't want to be going over old territory unnecessarily." He drinks, then pulls back and eyes his bottle of genius.. there's no tingle. That means it's not working.

Tessa is off to the side alone, nibbling on a thumb nail idly.

Quinlan smiles a bit. "Well, that's the beauty of it, at least right now. I can give you what I've got, and when you've got a plan you want to try you can give me a call. No timeframe required really."

Liya shakes her head, frowning a bit. "Did that critter help any?" she asks Quinlan after a moment.

Merri lifts brows, oh. "All right.. so what have you tried," he starts to ask, but doesn't tack on a question inflection to the end. He looks to Liyandra instead, and waits curiously for the answer to that one. Critters are always an interesting idea.

Quinlan blinks at Liya. "Er. What critter?" he asks. "Touch lost there." He coughs. "Right. Things we've tried so far." He fishes in his bag, taking out another notebook. "Explosives, magic, leading the Hunt off, sinking the Hunter in pits of mud and rock...what we've *got* from this is that the gold seems to function like armor. Cyndre made a kind of sword that seemed to get through it, but he was only scratched, so that needs more work. The Hunt can be distracted but he's constantly adding to it. He doesn't seem to need to breathe, so he just walks out of pits eventually. The Hunt itself seems to be able to at least scratch him, and Moxon's got some ideas about using that against him but he's looking for an alchemist to talk to about it first. The trident seems to go right through even magical defenses, and the net *catches* magic thrown at him, but doesn't dissipate it. I got caught in that net with my own fireball once. Wasn't fun." He looks to the others. "And, uh, that's about what we've tried so far."

Liya blinks at Quinlan, and then chuckles. "The one we separated from the hunt for Mox - Yeah, that one," she says. "I guess the answer is - we don't know yet, Moxon is still working on it?" She shrugs a bit. "I got nothing - I don't even know where to start with such a thing."

Merrisol glances at Liyandra, then settles down and absorbs in silence, nodding at intervals during the summary. He thinks a moment, then gestures towards the air above the table, between them. "You've seen it up close.. or close enough.. could you show us what it looks like.. with some reference to scale?"

Quinlan nods, and conjures an illusion of the Hunter on the table; a figure of a man apparently shaped entirely of gold, either sexless or wearing a jointless suit of golden armor, or possibly both. In one hand is held a golden trident, in the other a golden net, of the type gladiators or fishermen might use, weighted at the edges to be flung widely. "He seems to choose his size. He's been seven feet tall, or seventy, depending on the beasts in his Hunt. Or his whim. It's hard to tell."

Tessa looks over to the glowing illusion, frowning.

Liya stares at the hunter, recognizing it from helping Moxon way back when. And from their little hunting expedition not quite so long ago. "Too bad he doesn't show up really tiny somewhere," she mutters.

Merrisol folds his arms at the tabletop and gives the three-dimensional illusion a few moments of study, remaining quiet except to note to Liyandra, "Size might not even make a difference as to how any of the attempts thus far have affected it." He keeps to the gender neutral pronoun, like, there's a chance it could be a girl. And get put on his 'To Kiss' List!

Quinlan nods agreement. "It doesn't seem to be *stronger* when it's bigger. Or weaker when it's smaller. It's just a preference for looming over people, as far as I can tell." To Liyandra, he says, "Don't feel badly. My best guess is that this is a god *Oberon* couldn't kill, and so locked away. We've got to kill it now, because there isn't anything left that can hold it. But if killing it were easy, Oberon would've already done it. So I take as a given that a plan to kill this thing will be complex and involve a lot of stages. All ideas are welcome."

"It's compelled to the hunt, right? Maybe find the ultimate prey for the ultimate hunter." Tessa suggests.
Liya rubs at her head a bit, gaze moving from each one in turn. "Well, that's too bad," she says mildly, at the answer to her suggestion. "I guess - maybe work on whatever Cyndre did? Try to figure out if there's a way to hit him with lots of those swords or to make the swords stronger?"

Merrisol sits back, nodding after Tessa speaks up and glancing over that way briefly. After Liya speaks, he says to Quinlan, "If the ultimate prey for the Hunter is, as I think you've speculated before, the strongest challenger it has discovered, it could be our lot to find someone or thing that outstrips even Dame Cyndre in power. Another god? ..Who doesn't mind getting roped into a cage match?" He looks hopeful over this conclusion, because look out, his next suggestion will likely be Giant Robot.

Quinlan smiles. "Well, you're right in that its prey is currently Cyndre," he says. "Which is how we know it's going to find Amber sooner or later. And Cyndre has a kind of 'bring it on' attitude to this. Hence with the sword and all." He nods to Liyandra. "She's working on it, and I'm told she'll make them for anyone that wants. But I don't know how one makes them stronger. I'm ...kind of not a sword type of guy, really."

"What? I beat up Cyndre plenty." Tessa scoffs. "Well, I believe Cyndre mentioned once that more pure the flame, stronger the steel.

Liya at this point just shrugs. She's way out of her element here. She's thinking, trying to ocme up with something, but not really coming up with much. "But - if there's another god, does that mean they'd be fighting forever? Or one would win, and then the other come along looking for Amber again?"

Merrisol blinks at Tessa.. really? But he turns back Liya's way without comment. "Forever's relative, I would guess. Maybe a century or so they might duke it out, no sweat. And we could get a nice long breather out of it." He pauses, muttering, "And have to deal with two angry gods at the end of it, sure.." Looking over to Quinlan, he says, "There have been rumours and omens here and there.. the Leviathan might be stirring from its abyss. Martin even mentioned it once or twice, you remember? What if those two could be introduced?"

"Look, take this as someone who knows nothin'." Tessa says, still nibbling at her nail. "Ain't no gods looking to do Amber, or people from Amber, any favor. People from Amber don't do Amber favors, y'see. You either make a weapon fit to kill it, or make a trap fit for a God.... and that's presumably putting this off on the generations to follow. If Oberon wasn't smart enough to keep it pinned, we probably aren't either." At the mention of the Leviathan, she whistles. "I'd like to see something that stirs from an abyss."

Quinlan shakes his head. "The Hunter is the god of the hunt, of predators. They'd be far more likely to team up than fight. Trust me, the god *calls out* to any predatory being. Even fully human hunters like Moxon will hear the call. Staying in the Hunter's vicinity is one of those...constant exercises in willpower, really." He listens to Tessa, smiling a bit. And then says, "That reminds me." He fishes in his bookbag and emerges with...a wooden case. He shunts this over toward Tessa. "I did promise. The case kept them from getting broken in transit."

Oreos. Of course.

Tessa's eyes go wide with delight.

Liya grins as Quin pulls out the oreos, but she frowns for a moment. "Well, but - he seems to be a very elemental sort, really. I wonder if there's anything that could make that call stop?"

Merri slouches back some. Hunter/Leviathan team-up? Ewww, nevermind then. He fiddles his trump out once more and looks at it while downing the rest of the Begman brewsky.

"Maybe ask Moxon to explain what the call feels like," Tessa suggests, "I mean, seems like to me it really comes down to just setting a firm plan of action and putting enough brawns and brains behind that 'one' idea instead of simply one-upping the next person in line with another brilliant scheme. If you all set down, and asked yourself, okay~ Who here has the most concise, simple plan to follow? You? Okay good, here is what I can do to further the goals of said plan to fruition. Cooperation builds great things, they say."

Tessa opens the box, and shoves several cookies into her stupid mouth. Her smile is slightly distorted by chipmunk cheeks.

Quinlan shakes his head. "Ordinarily I'd go with that, Tess, but in this case - if it were simple, we can assume Oberon would've done it. So, go complex and convoluted. Hit the Hunter from as many angles at once as possible. So *every* plan that can work, we'll throw at it at once. It can't possibly defend against *everything* if it's all used at the same time." He smiles slightly at Liyandra. "I can hear the call too, you know. It's sort of...a hard tug at the instincts. The ones that look at other things as food, you know? Hunt, kill. Only it ramps that up a lot, so even things that wouldn't normally rate as potential food, will rate as food. And if you can figure out how to shut it off or block it out, that'd be a big help. It's really distracting."

Tessa's rebuttal is lost around crumbs and oreo flakes.

Liya nods to Quinlan, since she too could hear it, when near enough to the Hunter. "I - found it really distressful, honestly," she says softly. "It was hard to concentrate on what I was doing." And with her empathy to animals, no doubt it was a challenge. "I don't know how to make it stop - but I really wish I did. If we could lock him in his own head, that would be nice."

Izett walks in from the lobby having been....sleeping..plotting..planning. She has her own theories, "Hello everyone.."

Merrisol remains quiet at the table while he continues to focus on the trump.

Lucian had came along with Quinlan and Maggie at Izett's request. The Mandrake was dressed not in usual battle dress but something more of Remba fashion. Over one shoulder a trident is slung and a sheathed gladius from a leather thong around his waist. He moves to approach Izett, "Countess. How are you?" His voice quiet not to disturb Merrisol.

The trump contact is ... finally ... accepted. Thank the Squid, the Regent lives. He does look like he is rather distracted at the moment now. One of the corridors of the Coliseum perhaps, Slash...his sword whips through the water and takes out yet another creature. He looks more than a little like a fierce warrior of old, full of adrenalin as he attempts to slice his way through a horde of grotesque looking, fleshy undead creatures of the sea. Goo and blood covering his clothes, "Little busy here!" He snaps at the trump caller, not waiting to see who it is. A tentacle from ... something's stomach... narrowly misses snatching his arm. "Pfft. That's all you got!?!" He yells at someone else in a 'bring it' kind of tone.

Merrisol intakes air a little too sharply for a second there, and winces to himself. It appears he has made contact, dramatic split-screen visuals notwithstanding. "Yes, I can see that. Well, whenever you get a moment? Do you want us to get a stampede going.. or find Benedict's army?" He tries to get in that much before connection is broken.

Merrisol is fully dressed, eff why eye!

So is Tessa!

Quinlan watches Merrisol curiously. Then looks to Liyandra. "I'm guessing that his nose isn't *nearly* bloodied enough to stick, what do you think?" he asks conversationally.

Liya looks at Quinlan, and her eyes brim with amusement though she manaqes to not laugh by virtue of covering her mouth. "You're probably right," she says to Quin easily enough.

Martin shakes his head quickly. "No! Not yet. I got... Augh!" His face contorts as a gramace as something tries to bite him. He elbows it in the face. "Is Izett there?" He looks around wildly. "I need her eyes. Got to get this sonofabitch, he's been ducking me." Which might explain now why Martin is surrounded by a horde. "He knows where the Witch is."

Izett is still somewhat appearing as she did before with but a few minor alterations. Her hair is still whited out as though the color had been drained from it. Her skin holding the greyish palor of death with only a hint of life peaking through the palor. Her attire is that of black but ment for the water similar to her Rebman attire that it allows her to move easily through the water. She smiles seeing Lucian, for the first time smiling since they arrived here in the ghost city. She nods, "Glad you are here" is her responce to him.

Lucian frowns and is beginning to ask what is going on but he looks at Izett for a moment and then nods as he sees her. "Milady. It is good to be here." He then slips his arm around her. "YOu ask me to all the best places."

Merrisol looks completely drawn into whatever he's experiencing from trump-o-vision. "Watch out for that-..!" he yipes. Haha, epic stuff. "Izett? Yes, I believe so, Izett is here, right? Izett." He doesn't know, exactly, but he'll say her name a lot out loud anyway just in case she is, or can be brought by the others.

Quinlan frowns at what he can hear. "He's not retreating yet, is he," he says. "Merri, tell him about the phylactery idea. And that he probably shouldn't use that sword of his on it if he finds it. Use ...whatever else he can but not the pattern sword."

Liya just listens, and as Merrisol speaks up, she gets to her feet, moving a bit back away from Merri. "Does he need help? Should we go - " she asks, though she takes a deep breath at that, attention going quietly over to Izett and Lucian.

Izett looks up from her quiet coversation with Lucian, "I'm here..What does he require?" she questions. She remains next to Lucian as she speaks glancing to him.

Martin dodges another harrowing encounter and zips backwards until he can find himself an open spot. Drip, drip, drip. He looks up. Great. Undead Shark drool. He shoves the sword up with a grunt and into the thing's belly, then with the strength most get of Oberon have, he swirls around with the Big Fish kind of like a giant shish kabob and flicks his wrist so it slides off the sword and is flung into a group scuttling through the water his way. Opening! "I need her, now. Still in the city, so the magic is in effect. Dunno if you noticed, but anyone can breathe here. Tell her to touch you, bring her through, Damnit. Now! And anyone who can fight, you have to clear a path for us."

The Mandrake knight stays close to Feldane noblewoman. His hand moves to rest on the pommel of his gladius. All he says to something they had said quietly to each other, "As you wish." Though he exams the other people in this underwater boat measuring them up.

Merrisol flinches back, and would knock over his chair if it weren't attached firmly to the table by a swivel arm underneath. As it is, he spirals out of it one turn, rights himself, and says, "Hold on, Martin. If you're going after a lich life essence, do not hit it with your sword." Then, in a louder tone, he declares blindly to the room, "Right, we're going in! Get what weapons you can use from the locker in the lobby, harpoons, knives - whoever's going, be back here and your hand on me by the time I go through! Don't worry about the breathing, it's like being in Rebma. Lady Izett, he needs your eyes to help him find his mark," he finishes with his arm lifting in the Feldane's direction, beckoning.

Izett takes Lucian's hand and moves toward Merrisol, "Just remember what I said, Lucian.." she states softly and slips a dagger out from one of the folds of the fabric. She doesn't need to go and get weapons, this is a fight she's been waiting for since she arrived. Walking over toward Merrisol she reaches out to touch his arm, "I'm ready.." she states simply green eyes glowing brightly.

"Oh, here we go." Liya's words to Quinlan are somewhat rueful. "You game for a fight?" She moves to find a harpoon, still holding onto the knives she had previously. Even if she can't use it someone will be able to, hopefully. But no small poisonous cuttlefish, as cute as they are. Liya takes a breath as she moves quickly, returning to reach out and touch Merrisol as well.

Quinlan gets to his feet. "I think I'm going to have to," he says sadly. "I'll try not to get squished, Liya. Or at least not squished so badly someone's got to use my trumps for me."

Martin reaches out for Merri's hand while trying to keep the space open as long as possible. "Be ready to fight as soon as you hit water." He warns the group, ready to yank them through when Merri gives the Word.

Lucian moves with Izett holding her hand. He squeezes Izett's hand. Then he moves to touch Merrisol's arm next to Izett. "I remember." Then he slides the trident from his back. "I'm ready."

Liya looks at Quinlan and there's a sudden resolution in her eyes. "You better not. I won't let you," she suggests. Yes, she likely will get between the mage and danger, if she can.

As soon as he gets the sense that everyone around is piggybacking on his call, Merrisol says to Martin, "Ready, Sire. Bring us." His other hand keeping the card held to his line of sight, he'll leave off weapons until they are through.

When they come through, the group is inside the corridors of top level the Coliseum on the top levels. There are hordes of undead sea creatures (use your imagination), and some humanoid forms coming in from the open windows and other assorted directions, their general purpose is to attack, kill and devour anything trying to get past this point. Martin appears to be pushing back towards where Caesar was sitting. He probably got pushed back earlier. There are a lot of bodies and fleshy bits floating about in the Coliseum. The Regent has been busy. There's almost an immediate onslaught. Martin didn't get a chance to make a huge space, just enough. The Regent must have caught something out of the corner of his eye because he starts plowing forward with his sword. "Cover us!" Clearly he means himself and Izett. About 150 feet forward the corridor turns and the water beyond is quite dark. One loan jelly bobs and creates a kind of eerie glow.

Synopsis: You are in the top corridor of the building. It is open to the water. You can see the now coliseum interior filled with jellies and assorted bodies and assorted sea predators devouring said bodies. You are fighting undead sea creatures. Martin wants you to give him and Izett cover, presumably so they can dive into that dark, dark water ahead.

Quinlan shouts - insofar as one can, underwater: "Prepare to drop! I can clear us a ground but you're still going to have to fight what comes through." And then...well, those that've seen Quinlan traveling under the water before will have seen this, but this time the trick is a bit different. He *floods the corridor with air*, shaping it so that it fills part of the corridor. Of course, the 'wall of water' is water, it's not solid at all despite being peculiarly vertical. But it's a bit inconvenient to things used to fighting in three dimensions, and breathing water, to be breathing air and fighting in two.

Izett steps through and releases Merrisol the moment that they step through. Dagger in hand, those green eyes latching onto the landscape around her immediately taking stock of her surroundings. When Martin moves to plow forward she assumes the us meaning her. Her hand still in Lucians for a moment to give him a brief tug that he is to follow and stay close to her. It is then that she releases his hand to keep her hands free in case she needs them.

Liya comes through and finds herself breathing water again? Or not, as Quinlan does his magic. That gets a stare for the mage, "Squished indeed", but Liya figures being ready to fight is probably better than not. "Kerf!" she calls, and assuming he looks her way, she tosses him that harpoon she nabbed, turning for her own part to the knives he found her earlier, still ready to go. Liya draws both knives, and then looks to follow Merrisol's lead. or Martin's. Whoever is leading this whole mess.

Lucian follows as he's silently asked by Izett. His trident going out to strike at the dead creatures with a deadly efficiency. He seems to pick out the places on the humanoid and shark predators the places to slow the creatures down the most. His best done to make sure nothing attack Izett from behind. "Best I brought along something with a reach."

The change in environment is a shock of displaced water, hovering above floor level, and then suddenly air and weight once again, and the short drop to the stones. Fair enough... Merrisol was over-dressed for Emor anyway. He half-crouches from the fall, then scoots back before an undead manta ray flops down where he would have been standing. Pivoting, he responds swiftly to Liya's hail of his nickname, and darts his free hand up to catch the haft of the barbed pole she tosses, saluting with his card hand and stabbing the harpoon into the ray's brain as it flops again and tries to jab him with its own barbed stinger. "Protect Martin and Izett!" he bellows, in case anyone was wondering what their purpose in life was.

Tessa is the last one, a gauntlet on one hand. Perfect for punching! Her other hand, though, is still holding her tray of oreos.


Well, the black water agents responsible for this whole situation are surely patting themselves on the back now, snickering gleefully. Chaos all around the intruders.

Heard but not seen: Inside the space where Caesar was sitting the cornered Necromancer is valiantly trying to raise help on the mirror. "Help me, Master! Bring me through. The plan is lost. We could not kill the Regent. The Queen..."

"I must see the Queen! Please let me see her face!"

"You know what happens if she lets you see the truth."

"Then I will die as I choose! He's brought a whore of Feldane."

"You know the price of failure."

"Nooo... Please.. I must see her! I must! It is what I exist for! Please... Please! Do not abandon me to them!"

Cut to: Izett, Martin and Lucian plowing forward down the corridor and turning to see... Martin swims....then charges... and swims again as they round the corner dodging creatures he leaves for others to slay. Talk about multiple dimension fighting and moving... Yikes! It's a bit disorienting. "Come on!" He calls to Izett and then halts suddenly as he disappears around the next corner.

They see: The mirror is shimmering. The very one that was next to Caesar the entire time. It has the face of a horrible woman, eels for hair and the flesh drained from her face. Her hollow eyes slowly open. Her mouth has a collection of jagged teeth that must be for collecting the skin and meat from the bones of others, probably children. The man in front of the mirror is writhing and twisting as though something is actually twisting and cracking his body. They are apparently in the nick of time.

The witch's face is in the mirror, and she is apparently doing something to the obvious Head Necromancer guy who is your generic evil scumbag and his description is about as evil scumbag as you can get complete with nasally voice.

Quinlan gives Liya a somewhat distracted smile, his attention on maintaining the air in the corridor so that fights can only come from the front or the windows as opposed to from above as well. "Can't fight too well underwater," he admits. "Least I can do is make it easier for you guys to hold the line."

Merri stations himself at one of the wide open arches overlooking the open sea, and looks over his shoulder to make sure Lucian is taking care of the creatures in Martin's direct vicinity, before the smaller group turns the corner. A large putrid octopus humps its way up the outside, preceded by its grasping tentacles, which unfurl through three different windows into the air pocket, slapping around clumsily at the defenders. Leaping over one such flailing appendage, Merrisol launches out of the bubble and into the sea side of the wall, to take on the beast's head.

Izett swims rapidly with Martin, using that dagger to great effect to keep any that would come at them from the front. When they enter the room she looks to Martin, "You want information from him?" she questions with an idea coming quickly and with a malicious glare toward the necromancer. She draws in a slow breath, "Remember your promise Lucian.." green eyes glowing. Her heritage not hidden she starts to make it clear why ones such as them don't like Feldanes. Starting to chant softly.

There is something clearly off about the face in the mirror. It is almost as if she may not fully be in control of whatever it is she is doing. The eyes are not filled with clarity but more hollow. She does not seem to see the others in the room, she is only using whatever link is between her and the Necromancer. The tat on his arm burns. Her jaws open and close, clickity clack as though she is trying to suck his life energy out of him. The eels of her hair writhe and dance to the beat of death. There is no other voice, whoever the Necromancer was talking to... is gone. Martin nods to Izett. "Yes." Remembering Quinlan's words, he sheath's his sword. "What the hell." He tries hard not to look at the mirror too long or lock eyes with the witch. "Quinlan!" He bellows for his cousin. Outside, the creatures seem to be getting a little more violent and crazed, clearly uncontrolled too as some of them are attacking each other.

Lucian kills quickly and quietly and he lets out a growl a she hears the necromancer make a reference to the Feldane whore. His eyes dark as he sets about his task, "I remember. I'll rip his tongue out later." He says of the necromancer. The good thing about anger and lots of things to kill, it distracts you from not looking at creepy witch woman in the mirror. Though he's step by step protecting Izett's flank as they go.

Liya looks over at Quinlan and nods. "We can maybe work together?" she says, though as a slimy eel with parts hanging down slithers in at her, her knives move, darting in an almost ginshu fashion, as the eel ends up in two, floating off to be caught by something's tentacles. Liya looks to see where Merrisol is, and her eyes widen, as she continues to look for more targets, at least well used to fighting on land.

Tessa is quietly efficient, sharing time between finishing the last of her cookies and holding off the mooks that remain clumsy outside of the water.

Quinlan nods to Liyandra. "Find me a knife or a polearm and I can help that way," he says. "We want to clear these guys as fast as we can. Martin's swimming into something *bad*. Like, smell-it-from-here bad."

The corridor from whence Martin had come in an hours-long battle is filled with pink foaming water and frenzied zombie critters, some of them sluicing through into the wide air pocket to slip and slide and generally make a nuisance of themselves around the line holders while the humanform undead throng inside with much less hinderance.

A mournful belling sound breaks through the surface tension of Quinlan's air bubble, reverberating through the space. Bashing aside the milling creatures on the water side, a zombie minotaur busts in, one wickedly curved horn hanging by a strip, but the other gleaming in the city's mystical ghost light as it charges the defenders.

Izett holds firm, and nods to Martin. Her green eyes glowing as she studies things before her from a different perspective. She starts to chant softly in a melodic language of her birth. She winces a little as some sort of link seems to be made. It is then that she whispers softly, "Don't dally..get what you need.." the dagger in her hand forgotten as she works her magic. It is then she whispers softly to Lucian.

Liya gave the big weapon to Merri, but she does have two knives. She pauses and turns to give one to Quinlan. "Here," she says, simply. "Use this. It works really well under water." That leaves her with one knive, but she can hopefully steal something or other from one of the zombies. Maybe.

Quinlan tilts his head, frowning. "...This is gonna be a problem," he says. "I have to go. Which means the water's going to come back. Everybody, back to back and I'll make it gentle as I can." He accepts the knife from Liyandra...and the corridor of air starts shrinking as the water closes in. It's fairly clear the mage is trying to prevent living people winding up spun about in watery churn.

The entire time, the witch simply continues opening and shutting that crazy mouth of hers. The eels twist and writhe, the smoky blackness of the mirror fills and obscures any other details. Martin stalks towards the Necromancer. "We have you trapped, now. You're defeated." He states with all the arrogance of a Prince of Amber. "You sought to kill me, but you failed. I am Rebma, and you cannot destroy us." He grimaces as he hears another couple of bones crack and sees bodyparts twist in awkward positions. Yet the man remains alive.

"You are filth, sitting on her throne!" The Necromancer's raspy words spit out at the Regent. "Bastard son of a Bastard Prince!" He jeers, his jaw dangling precariously while his tongue wags as he attempts to slur out words. Crack. click. ssssnap.

"Answer the Question!" Martin growls. "Who helped you bring her back? Who created that thing?" He points at the mirror with his sword. "Where are they?"

"Oh, peachy," Liya mumbles, as she moves right over with Quinlan, well aware that incoming water is Not Nice. And also, it sucks to have to breathe water, even if it gets you a kiss from Kerf. She nods her head though. "Go ahead, Quinlan, quick as you can. We'll cover you."

"I'll hold the line," Tessa bubbles as the water flows back in. She slaps her iron fist into the palm of her left hand and then grins, her crooked tooth on display. "You 'ear that, mooks? Come on and get through me if you can!"

Lucian uses the trident and sets a line. He doesn't let anything or anyone in near Izett or himself as he fights with the trident. A shark swimming towards them is struck burying it deep. The trident is swept away and Lucian draws his gladius and starts to strike out at the undead creatures. He grunts, "As you wish."

Quinlan lets the water return with as little churn as a mage can manage, and then darts off down the corridor, controlling the water around him to carry him as fast as he can. Clutching that knife Liyandra gave him like he'd be able to do anything useful with it. It's not like underwater people eat bagels.

In the open sea, Merrisol takes full advantage of three-dimensional mobility, diving in a corkscrew at the giant octopus that clings to the coliseum wall as though trying to collapse the pillared supports. A thrust of the harpoon into the hourglass eye bursts it in a cloud of vitreous. Gaffing innards and brain meats, Merri pushes off from the tumorous head and drags it up out through the punctured socket, swimming back upwards to rejoin the defensive line, only to find the air bubble diminished and shrinking. He touches down amid retreating tentacles and throws Liyandra a questioning glance.

"For the record. My father isn't a bastard son." Martin riles at the taunt, he's in no mood to be Mr Nice guy, apparently. "And I'll have the tongue of any who state otherwise. Answer me! Who are you working for?"

Izett stands very still continuing to chant. Her green eyes studying the necromancer as though he were mere prey to her. As the torture of what that thing in the mirror does to him continues, she clearly prolongs it. Hearing Lucian's responce she relaxes and focuses only on what she is doing. Softly she continues to chant, holding the necromancer in that state of torture giving him just enough reprieve from the pain that when it returns it hurts all that much more. She occasionally winces but otherwise is very calm, cool, controled toying with a puppet while Martin questions him.

"Her sovereign Majesty, rightful Queen of Rebma, Our Dragon Queen." The Necromancer rasps. "She will take her place when you and Moire die, whoreson. You cannot stop the Black Water. It will come for you. It's ready to come. It will fill your lungs and feast on your insides. But Death.. Death is not the end. I'm not afraid of you feldane bitch!" The man writhes again, clearly a fanatical sort. He's in huge amounts of pain as his neck is bent once and snaps again. And yet, he does not die. Izett is giving the Dragon Queen quite a feed. Still, the Witch does not seem to see that others are there. She only does what she is doing with the click click of her teeth.

Quinlan enters into this tableau, looking around with his eyes rather widely open. One can almost imagine pointed ears perking. Like a yorkie, or something, as he takes in the situation. "You...yelled?" he asks.

Liya gestures towards where Martin, Izett and Lucian went, giving Merrisol a head's up. "Martin called for Quinlan, so he's gone to - help with whatever. Meanwhile, we get to hold the - " A tentacle comes sliding in through a window, and Liya slashes at it, before finishing, "line."

Finallly! Quinlan. Martin points at the Mirror. "Is that that phyla...thingy you talked about before?"

Izett seems rather unphased by whatever the necromancer calls her, well at least until she feeds him just enough to relieve his suffering a bit more than before..that way it hurts that much more when she stops. The twisting of that dagger in torture is not without its price. Its clear she's starting to pay it her fist around that dagger starting to tighten, her breathing coming a little more quickly and if one were to look closely they might see the signs of one suffering a bit of pain. Still she chants, holds that necromancer within that grasp of torture. Her voice not quiet as melodic in her chanting as before straining a little.

"Hey Liya, you ever seen those books that some of the Walkers bring back out from Shadows?" Tessa asks, slashing at one of the reaching appendages. "Where, like, girls with huge eyes are molested by tentacles in graphic detail?"

"Really graphic detail."

Quinlan shakes his head. "The mirror is just the means. Link between that...uh. Dead lady there, and this about-to-be-dead guy here. She's eating him alive. Or eating his life. Not exactly an expert on the specifics but I can sense the link. And *she's* ...being controlled too, I think. Can we go through the mirror ourselves? To where she is?"

Lucian continues to lash out with the short stabbing sword. He lets out a growl, "I'll be happy to collect that tongue." He stabs an octopus through and bringing the tentacled mass to the floor and uses his foot as leverage to unlodge his blade. He goes to stabbing again. He snorts, "The Dragon Queen? Ha.. that's a joke. I am a dragon and your queen is no dragon." He calls out to Martin, "Hurry milord, this is coming with a price."

Listening to Liyandra's mid-fight synopsis, Merrisol casts a glance down to that bend in the corridor where the water is darker, but the creatures are more thinned out by now. They aren't letting anything get through by this point, though it's hard to say with all those open arches. With a speechless and puzzled glance between Tessa and Liyandra, he moves to confront the bull-headed man undead as it lumbers unchecked down the corridor. It charges with enough massive force to push him off balance, and they go rolling and tumbling around on the stones.

Liya glances at Tessa with her own big eyes for a moment. "No," she replies. "And I don't think I want to." She continues to fight with whatever tries to come in through the window she's by, guarding it, keeping the undead out. Or well, at least keeping them honest. She pauses though as Merri takes on the minotaur, blinking. And then there's a hand reaching in, and that she cuts off at the wrist, sending it spinning back out to be caught in mid glumph by something large swimming by. Shark maybe.

Martin eyes the mirror and quickly shakes his head. "No. This is not a gate, its some kind of link, I am not sure. Anyway, only mirror mages can use Mirror Magic, so only I'd be able to go through." He steps closer to the necromancer and raises his sword to hover near the man's tat. "You know what this is and what you have inside you... and what happens when I destroy you. There is no coming back from that." He states with a growl. "You will tell me who has helped you, who is behind this. Or you will burn and then be lost forever to oblivion."

This particular threat may have some meaning to the man and he cries again. "Noo...I've told you all i know. I've told you. Wait.. please. The Queen, The Dragon Queen..." He refuses to rise to Lucian's taunt. "She will ride the Leviathan and behind her the hordes of the Black Water will follow and take your Rebma! Then a wave will come to Amber. You've seen it! I know you've seen it....!!" He swivels his head around all the way to look at Martin. "We've heard you talk."

Martin steps back, his eyes wide. He apparently knows exactly what the man is talking about. He turns to Izett. "Kill him, but make sure his spirit lives and Feldane controls it."

Quinlan notes, "So if you can go through, then go through and call my Trump. Half the people here have mine, we can bring others in. We don't need to storm the fortress, just know where it is." His attention turns toward the dying food-mage, frowning. "...Word of advice, nearlydeadguy. From the heart, gratis. Don't brag about the size of your wand when you're in the same room as a Pathian, yeah? It just makes you look...*direly* under-informed."

Izett nods her head slowly to Martin, Lucian is in for an interesting sight, the others simply can watch the physical reaction of the act upon the small woman. She cries out as the necromancer suddenly seems to be much better and then of course that creature in the mirror takes that which made him feel better to feed upon. This of course brings the necromancer very rapidly toward death. Izett starts to fall as though in slow motion. The light in her eyes starting to fade, the necromancer starting to crumble as death begins to claim him. It is as though the two of them, the necromancer and Izett are traveling toward death together. At the last moment the necromancer stops breathing, while Izett's are shallow so very close to death herself.

When the Necromancer draws his last breath, The Witch's eyes close and her mouth seals and she looks, for all intensive purposes... lifeless. The connection begins to fade. The mirror stops shimmering but the ghostly face remains...even the eels have stopped their dance. And quite suddenly, all the undead the pcs are fighting, lose their power and ... crumple. Truly dead now.

Lucian's blade slashes out over and over again till the dead things crumble. He catches Izett as she falls and lets his blade drop to the ground the dead now remaining dead. "Regent Martin, do you have a trump to get her to Amber. So I can get her to the Mandrake hospital? Walking that abomination to the door nearly took her as well. She needs medical care." He says as he goes to checking Izett for physical manifestations of her condition. "Oh and she mentioned about keeping the scum's body."

Harpoon trapped between them, Merrisol may have met his match for strength in this here undead 'taur. He's just gotten it leveraged up on the shaft of the harpoon whilst it takes snaps at his head with its Mad Cow teeth, when the un-life just ripples out of it, zing! It becomes much easier to heft and kick over the side of the walkway, flopping slowly down the side of the coliseum. Rolling and bounding to his feet, Merrisol surveys the rest of the corridor with wary hope, then out the arched window to see things dropping from the 'sky' to settled upon the sea bed below, like dead things should. "...Very fancy," he has to admit, and checks on Liyandra and Tessa, before gesturing for them to go with him to wherever the others went.

Liya is in the middle of slashing the rest of the zombie, when it just crumbles leaving her staring at it, wordlessly. Good thing there's not anything else. As Merri gets there, she just shakes her head. And moves along with him.

Martin immediately looks to Izett and Lucian before answering Quinlan. "Very well. I can let you use my trump of Amber. Ensure her safety, and take this bastard's corpse with you." He bendss down and puts his hand on Izett's cheek gently. "I am grateful to you, my lady." he tells her sincerely. "you have no idea how much." He allows Lucian to use his trump to return to Amber with his charges. "Thank you." He tells the man

Tessa arches a brow, but nods, and moves to join Liya and Merrisol.

Quinlan swims over to the mirror, studying it carefully, but being careful of touching it. "...Do you have any mirror mages in your camp, Martin?" he asks quietly, much more...normal now that there's a lot less raging undeath in the room. "Because if you do, we could take this with us. Trace the link back to its source."

ooc> Martin says, "You guys can see the witches face in the mirror clearly but it is dormant. eyes closed etc."

Lucian slides out Izett's trumps finding them as he checks her over, "We're covered." Then he uses the trump to go to the castle with Izett, body, and all. After that it was a mad carriage ride to the Mandrake Hospital. He has no idea what to do with the body of the necro but will find something to do with it till Izet can tell him.

Martin nods. "I have mirror mages." He looks grim as he sheathes his sword. "we'll have to bring this back to Merri's sub."

"Are we safe?" Tessa asks, as she comes to a stop right next to Merrisol. "Just trumping out, right?" She is pulling out her own deck as she asks.

Quinlan nods. "And keep it covered, I think," he says quietly. He turns to study Martin for a bit, then looks down at the knife in his hand. Shaking his head, probably at some thought on his mind, he heads back to return the knife to Liyandra.

Liya keeps a wary watch, just in case. Though she does give a soft hrm, now that she thinks over things. "There are giant sea horses," she mutters half to herself. That look of thoughtfulness on her face might not have been seen before, given the level of glee that is included, now that she's got a moment to think. It's still there as she turns to accept the knife back from Quin with a "thanks. I'd hate to lose Kerf's knives. Someone remind me to get some that are good for underwater, just in case there is a next time."

Merrisol has rounded the corner and is perhaps wishing he hadn't. Damn creepy-arse mirror... but then, it's not reflective like a mirror. More like a window. He can deal. He looks at Izett with concern before Lucian trumps out with her and the broken-down deathmage. "We're taking that..?" he says flatly to Martin, then sighs. "Of course, we are. Maggie will pull us back through." He turns to see Tessa there with her own trumps. "All clear," he nods in reply to her question, smiling. "Are you off to Amber then, Tessa?"

"Yep." Tessa says, considering the cards for a second. She finally extracts one, and smiles as she looks up. Her left fist, noticeably the one that ISN'T covered with bonecrunching steel plate, balls up and quite out of the blue is aimed right at Merrisol's jaw.

Martin exhales and nods at Quinlan. "Yes." His eyebrows shoot up as he sees Tessa throw a punch at Merrisol. The city is apparently returning to a normal Ghost City, and they'd better get out of here quick before the rebma breathing magic wears off. "I suggest we all leave...now." He states.

Quinlan mmms. "I'll carry it, if you like. It shouldn't be on the sub with the kids. I'll take it to the Amber shore...still not great, but at least not likely to be *too* useful?"

What's that sound effect that is popular in those comics with all those people in spandex tights.. no no, NOT the ones Tessa seems to like. Merrisol is tilting his head like he expects to hear something comradely coming out of the Gull's cookie-eater about now. Because they shared the laughter and the pain, they even shared the *PAF!* The uppercut clocks him hard on the jaw, and he stagger-floats back a few paces. If there's any tears, you'll never know! It's wet everywhere!

Martin thinks for a moment. "Take it to Robert and/or Taleyn in Feldane."

Liya looks over to Martin and she nods. "I'm with you on that one. Getting out of here is a good idea, better sooner rather than later." Yup, danger sense might be tingling even.

Tessa winces, rubbing at her knuckles before drawing out the card so she can escape the underwater death. "Picking me last, pfaw."

Martin checks to make sure only Merri's pride is hurt. He grins a moment and makes sure to remind himself to rib the other about it later. Nice one, Tessa. If the Regent were in a better mood... "Back to the Sub." He orders.

Quinlan nods to Martin - apparently figuring whatever's between Tess and Merri, they'll work it out for themselves without his help - and pushes the mirror forward in the water. While it's gently falling, he gets behind it, kneeling on the back of it with his hands gripping the sides of the frame. And then....well, control of the water around him's a nifty thing. It's like underwater surfing, as he aims to reach the surface before the survival magic fades.

Merrisol flexes his jaw slightly, looking over at the disappearing Tessa as her words sink in. "Someone had to be last," he grumbles, righting himself into a glide over to Martin and Liyandra, watching Quin depart post-haste in his own way. He locates his trump for Maggie and calls her to pull the rest of them through.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Solar Flare is currently floating peacefully at sea level, vents open to fill the rooms with fresh and natural ocean air. The primary purpose for surfacing was of course to catch the remaining hours of sunlight as the day of the dead and dark revelations came to a close. It's early the next day, and soon they will be docking at Gwyn Gaer, and most of them transferring aboard the Wave Dancer to head back to Amber.

Martin wanders out in his trunks, looks for the liquor cabinet, rubs his face. He's got a few bruises and scrapes and a pretty nasty bruise on his side. He seems otherwise seems and is moving a bit slowly. "Where's the Booze?" He yawns hugely and blinks around blearily. His hair is still sleep tossled this way and that.

This is a day of great shame, for Merrisol hasn't gotten around to filling the wetbar with the Regent's favourite scotch and froofy recipes. "We've got some aged Begman-brew, and an unlabeled jar of dark amber stuff," says the Captain of the Solar Flare with a brave stoicism.

Climbing up from one of the cabins, Maggie is back to wearing her clearly boring topside garb of piratical shirt, jeans, boots and vest. They must be boring, otherwise her 'civic minded' cousin would not be so hell-bent on putting her in more flamboyant gear. When she hears the voices, she turns into the common area. Merrisol is given a quick, warm smile but Martin? When she spots her Regently cousin, the smile fades. Moving to intercept the man even before he gets a drink (how rude) she catches his wrist in her hand and pulls him into a very tight, if silent, hug.

Martin tries not to wince from the hug and lets her have his way. His body really wishes he would have stayed crashed out. He scratches his stomach. So lean and wiry compared to Merrisol's muscley hunky bulk and yet the man lasted 3 hrs of combat. "Hey." He greets, somewhat nonchalantly. "As long as it's strong, it's good."

Merrisol glances over towards the hatch as Maggie climbs up, ready with a smile of good morning greetings. He steps back to consider the limited choices, glimpsing the fierce embrace from under his brows a moment before going back to contemplating and nodding over Martin's remark. "I wouldn't call Begman Ale -weak-, but... oh, I think I can rig up a system of delivery that'll make you feel like you hammered back half a dozen at once." He crouches down behind the counter to rattle around some utensils.

In other words... Beersplosion.

Once the hug is released, Maggie takes a half step back and lifts a finger to press lightly on Martin's chest. Although she intends making a point, she does not mean hurting the man, "Martin. When you tore off into battle, did it ever occur to you that if you did not return, Rebma would be left without a Regent, without a Protector, without a Queen and with a Princess far too young to rule? Next time? Don't leave us behind." Nuff said. Turning away from him, she stalks angrily toward the bar. What follows is softer, though still aimed at him, "If anything had happened to you..."

Martin gives Merrisol a plaintive expression which clearly indicates anything strong would be well appreciated in his hand as soon as humanly possible. "Of course I..." Pfft, think? Not really. That was a split second gut decision like always. He sighs. "I thought I saw the Witch, but it was only the mirror. I thought I could end it all right then." His lip works into a slight sulk. "How was I supposed to know about the zombies? I figured I could just kill her and we could all go home and that would be that. You guys were already going." Lame excuse, but there you have it.

Merrisol looks up from his crouch, though given his height to start it's more like peering over the ledge of the counter with a swivel of his eyes. He looks from one of the cousins to the other, then back, silently. Wisely reconsidering the experimental double-barreled beer shotgun he'd been assembling, he gets out the amber liquid jar instead and unscrews the lid to see how bad the fumes are. Whooosh. He takes that and pours into a trio of tumblers, making sure to taste the first one personally. A few rasping sounds later, he's back up and setting the drinks down for whoever really needs a stiff one in the morning. He continues to not talk, but this time possibly because his tongue has numbed right up after soaking in 120 proof alcohol.

Maggie whirls then and fixes poor Martin with a glare, "No. We weren't. Quin got his deck out when you told him to. I ran after you but the jellies had closed above and I couldn't see where you had gone. Martin... You can't do that kind of thing anymore. Not because you are unable or unwilling. Clearly you are both capable and enthusiastic. And there was a time when you could pull that kind of thing off and come out of it the hero. But, now? Now you have hundreds of people who need you to be an entirely different sort of hero. Sure, you can and should still lead the charge, but you damn-well better be certain that it is a charge and you have someone you trust at your back. If something horrible happens to you, Rebma is sunk." Yes, she went there. An odd sort of rasping sound catches her attention and Maggie sidles a glance over at Merrisol, the anger born of fear for her favorite cousin replaced by concern for her favorite man, "Are you okay?" Following the angle of his arm she finds the three drinks. Pushing from where she stands, she walks the few paces to the table and claims one of them, "Thanks, Kerf."

Martin grabs the drink and takes a healthy swig, his face contorts slightly and he coughs and rasps but otherwise looks mightly pleased. "Now -that-s..." He says hoarsely, "what I'm talking about." He grimaces under the dressing down from his cousin. "Alright alright." He grumbles. "I hear you." He shifts on his chair and groans as his body manages to feel one of the bruises. "You're right of course, I'll work on it." Clearly his body's not ready to be up and about just yet. "Anyone check on Izett?"

Merrisol nods to Maggie. "I'm fine," he mumbles, although it sounds more like 'ahn fahf', really. He picks up his own glass and toasts the other two, winces at Martin's gusto, then squares his shoulders and takes a kinda sorta swing himself. Aagh, it burrrrns. He puts the tumbler down again, because he's got to work in the morning.. and the morning is now. Clearing his throat, he enunciates more carefully, "Quinlan migh'ave. I contacted him abou' th' noteth'e left behin' - he'd've called back if we need t'be concerned. Anyway," he coughs once more, shaking his head. "Should be back in Amber today, I'll pay Mandrake a visit and find out."

Maggie lifts the glass to toast the other two though she addresses Merrisol first, her tone gentle, "Okay." Then she refocuses on her cousin. He has heard her. She smiles at him then knowing that she can drop it and nods. "Fair enough." Lifting the glass she makes the mistake of sniffing. It is a light whiff but the stuff is potent. A wince and a sane person would decline. Maggie is not always sane. She does not gulp nor quaff but does manage a judicious sip. A shudder runs through her and she squeezes her eyes shut. Another sip is taken before she lowers the glass. She does not have to work today but that stuff is strong.

More Liquor! That's what's needed. Eventually Martin passes out and can be carried to Merrisol's room. It's Tradition!